He felt her hand in his, skin against skin. It was soft, Sharon had exceptionally childish hands. He got bored and traced patterns on her palm.
She was sick. It reminded Break of her mother, the moments when he would watch over her. This really wasn't any different. She had asked him to stay with her, said she had trouble sleeping and wanted him around. He knew better than that, she wouldn't ask unless she felt like she had no choice. Sharon was stubborn like that.
Throughout the past week, he had seen her condition worsen. Heard her coughing and her weak voice, had wiped the sweat from her forehead and helped her eat something that she didn't immediately throw up afterwards. Doctor's visits were frequent, at least once a day. They all said the same thing: unless her fever broke soon, there wasn't much hope for her.
Sharon was dying.
It was this precise reason why she had called him into her room tonight. She didn't think he knew about it, thought she had been able to keep it a secret from him, but she didn't. He played along anyway, his smile never giving away the true ache in his heart. He had lost Shelly this way; he couldn't handle losing Sharon as well. He knew with a painful sort of certainty that he was going to. Tonight felt off, and his chest hurt as he watched her.
She was sleeping peacefully. Had been tossing around for the past little while, but now it seemed she was finally resting. Something about that thought brought a tear to his eye. It didn't fall.
He watched as she breathed, felt the pulse of her heart, and smiled as her face crinkled into some strange sort of expression. Made him think she was having a dream, and he hoped it was a good one. Closing his eye for a moment, it was as if he just knew. Whether by her behaviour or a lingering feeling in the air, he knew.
Sharon's breathing stopped, and that tear in the corner of his eye slipped down his face. Another one followed shortly after. He held onto her fingers because he wanted them to stay warm.
Break opened his eye. She looked the same. Her mouth was parted and hair a mess, face tired and sweaty. She looked like an angel.
Another tear.
He leaned forward and kissed her forehead, brushed the hair out of her face and kissed her again. It would be the last time, after all, and something in him felt dreadfully empty, as if Sharon had taken hold of his soul and left with it as well. In a way, he hoped she had. He didn't want her being alone, and the idea that a piece of him could still be with her was comforting.
His fingers held hers tightly while his other hand stroked her face. He pressed her nose and made funny shapes with her cheeks, and let another tear fall because she would never yell at him for doing that to her again.
It hurt, but he smiled. An empty, half-hearted sort of grin because he didn't know how to do anything else at the moment. He dropped her hand.
Wiped down her face with that cloth again, straightened her hair out a little because he knew how Sharon liked looking presentable. Wrap the blankets tightly around her like he used to do when she was a child. He wondered if somewhere, she was watching him now. It wasn't as though he believed in such things, it just made him happy to think that she might still be around somewhere. As if she would wake up and hit him over the head for touching her when she was sleeping. Impossible, and once more, a tear fell.
He wiped his face with the palm of his hand. Closing his eye again, and with trembling lips, he leaned down and kissed her for the last time. Then he turned his head and kissed her ear, whispering before he pulled away. "Please wait for me, Milady. I shan't be too long. Then we'll have tea together again, yes?" And his voice was shaking.